


to live is to die; a death wish

by reylomami



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, HEA, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Not Related, Medieval AU, Nobody Dies, also fuck TROS but here's a loosely based AU fic on tros canon, bc fuck this shit i need it, because fuck sadness, but his humanity is demanded of him in this one, honestly it's still Rey Nobody to me, kylo is a killing machine, my own prompt, rey and ben flips the finger at capitalism and elitism, tw: dying thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23814913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reylomami/pseuds/reylomami
Summary: Here is a story of a case of will against odds.medieval au: kylo ren is the fiercest warrior and is sent by his kingdom to hunt and kill the lost palpatine heir for good. rey is accepting of her fate but asks to be made love to because it’s the one thing she wants to experience before death(i asked for this prompt and in an ironic twist, i gave myself this because no one has committed to giving their take on it yet.)
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 66
Kudos: 325





	to live is to die; a death wish

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @flowerofcarrots on twitter for beta-ing! (@QueenofCarrotFlowers on AO3)

He should have known that this assignment carried the weight of the gods. When the royal adviser had come to him in the middle of the night with a location and a handwritten request from the king himself, he should’ve realized the gravity of the request. The mighty warrior Kylo Ren, in his rash and ruthless nature, accepted the mission without regard and set out the morning after to fulfil the deed.

“Consider it done,” he had told the royal adviser before riding off on his horse.

Little did he realise, however, that it would take a week for him to cross the forest – which was rumored by the common folk to be enchanted and impenetrable.

He believed in no higher power, even if pledging loyalty to the crown meant to imply the existence of a deity granting such authority. But after losing his stallion and his supplies on the third day of his mission, the warrior had begun to think that the villagers were right: this forest would be the end of him.

So this was how the feared warmonger was going to go, he had thought to himself. Only such fear of death could motivate him to stay alive and push on to the end of his mission.

He’s on the last of his reserves when he finally reaches the end of the forest. He is without a sword now, having lost it to a wild beast that nearly killed him in his sleep. The only weapons he has with him are his bare hands.

They will do, he thinks.

The Palpatines have long been rumoured to be blessed with astounding intellect but equally cursed with the brittlest bones. It is unclear if this is meant literally or metaphorically. But some say their motive in usurping the royal throne across several generations had been to protect themselves behind the strongest fortress, surrounded by the mightiest army known to man, thereby ensuring their existence into the future.

A petty motive, Kylo Ren had thought. But in a land where power is desired over the smallest things, one cannot easily dismiss the rumor as tittle-tattle.

He remembers this when he finds himself in front of a small run-down cottage. Instantly, he knows he’s in the right place. It fits the description of the location on the map supplied to him by the royal adviser.

Experts and strategists have burned the midnight oil to end the Palpatine line once and for all. Kylo and his Knights of Ren have hunted down other Palpatines before. It had been an easy task largely because those members were well-known and had links from within the kingdom.

Traceability was key.

This last Palpatine, however, was a remote case, as he had been informed. That was the only context he had been given. There was no room for him to rethink the harm that one isolated Palpatine could possibly do to the kingdom.

Kylo Ren only needs to end the lineage once and for all. Then he will bring glory to his kingdom as usual. A new badge and a larger house is the reward that awaits him.

He enters the cottage, surprised to find the door unlocked. The space is small and quiet, bare but sprinkled with little trinkets and potted plants, the overall effect one of kitsch. No one seems to be around, which makes him wonder if he is in the right place.

The sound of water splashing from outside the back door catches his attention. He follows the sound, stealthy in his footsteps, but not bothering to hide himself in the small compound.

It will be an easy kill on sight.

He is scanning the tiny garden when a gasp escapes from the side. A bucket must have fallen, and he carefully turns to the source of the noise.

When the royal adviser had come to him with the king’s request to kill the last Palpatine, he pictured him to be as atrocious-looking like the other members of the family he had killed.

But the person who stands before him now is nothing like them. A woman with fair, immaculate skin, dressed in the dullest brown shift, stands some distance before him, staring him right in the eye. To say he is crippled by the sight before him is an understatement. How could one think she is related by any degree to the other Palpatines he had personally ended?

Their eyes lock for an indiscernible amount of time, the world feeling to him as though it had come to a stop. But then her hazel eyes lower to the insignia on his armour, realisation sparking her eyes at the sight of the royal crest.

When she meets his eyes again, fear mars her pretty face.

She takes off without direction. Anywhere away from him.

But he is quick to pursue her.

A few large sprints and he jumps, grabbing her tiny waist and tackling her to the ground. She doesn’t scream but merely gasps for air, determined to exhaust every ounce of her energy in pushing him off her.

“This doesn’t have to be difficult.” He would make it a quick and painless death. That’s how he’s done it for the rest. Hers would be no different.

Her leg hooks behind his knee and a quick tug changes their position, pinning his hands under her knees and pushing down his windpipe with her forearm. 

“I’ve done nothing to be sentenced to death.”

“You’re a Palpatine, a threat to the royal throne – “

“A _threat_?” She retorts incredulously. Even in her exasperation, she looks arrestingly beautiful. The soft sunlight on her face paints a picturesque sight before him. “Look around, murderous snake! I have no servants, no army, no resources to even begin thinking about challenging the throne!”

His hands slip off from under the trappings of her knee and they fight to grab hold of each other. He’s strong but she’s especially nimble and quick for his large frame. At one point she manages to grab a fistful of his hair and slam his head against the grassy ground, giving her a brief head start to take off again.

But his hand wraps around her ankle after just one step, hurling her back onto the ground ungracefully. He grabs her from behind, locking her against his chest, his arm wrapped around her neck, daring to snap it off.

“Like I said, this doesn’t have to be difficult.”

It was harder to do this with his bare hands. It feels more personal without a sword.

She’s gasping for air, hot tears falling from her cheek onto his forearm. He cannot see her face but he loosens his hold just for a bit so she can say her last words.

But after a long moment, she still does not say anything, merely sobbing in his hold, awaiting the quick death cursed upon her.

Time stills once more for Kylo, the weight of his responsibility tying him down from fulfilling his mission. He wonders about her for that moment. Why did she live alone in the middle of nowhere, so removed from her noble distant relatives?

“If my only crime is to be cursed with the blood that courses through my veins, then let me have my one last wish at least,” she finally utters, her voice shaky from his grip and her sobbing.

When he doesn’t budge, she turns her head to try and look at him. A final plea. His arm loosens around her and lets her look.

“If you’re a true noble warrior, you’ll let me have it. Please.”

“There’s nothing noble in killing, milady,” he says. The truth is a reality blow, causing her face to crumble in despair. He’s never felt remorse for one of his missions before. Something about her innocent face accepting defeat makes his chest heavy.

Without thinking, he moves his hand to gently set her aside. He sits up so he can take a good look down at her. She was no threat. Even now as she cries to herself, she makes no effort to get up and run. She can try to escape him, but they both know he still has the upper-hand no matter what.

He settles his mind on a decision.

“What will it be, milady?” he asks.

With her arm shielding her eyes, she snaps, “My name is Rey. Don’t you dare ‘milady’ me if you’re going to murder me on unjustified terms anyway.”

He would argue that the throne’s request needs no justification, but his inner wisdom prompts him to acquiesce. He nods.

“As you wish. Rey.”

Silence passes momentarily between them. The wind bristles a few leaves across their way. He wonders what options she’s going through her head now as her dying wish. He’s heard prisoners on their death row requesting the largest hunt as their last meal – a final acknowledgement from the crown of their existence. He hadn’t thought much about the impact of someone’s final wish before their sentencing until now. Until Rey.

“What will it be, Rey?” he quietly prompts her once more.

He is in no hurry to return home, but he wouldn’t want to prolong his stay when he’s already low on supplies for the trip back.

She takes a long time to respond, hiding her face behind her crooked arm. He thinks she’s prolonging the inevitable. He lets it be.

That is until he notices the redness suffusing across her fair neck to her cheeks.

Is she _blushing_?

With a deep inhale, she finally speaks, “I’ve never been pleasured before.”

He thinks he misheard her.

“I’m sorry?”

She clicks her tongue, embarrassed as she should be already. “Don’t make this difficult for me.”

It was uncouth, too forward of a request to be true. And she was ashamed enough already.

He did hear her right. But for someone as overwhelmingly beautiful as her, it baffles him that no one has taken up the deed for her. Propriety be damned, nobody truly subscribes to it behind walls anyway.

“I’m not – making it difficult,” he stammers through his reply. “I’m just surprised.”

“Surprised at what?” She’s now looking at him. Her eyes are as bewitching as before, and he tries to find elsewhere to settle his eyes on – anywhere but her.

“A beautiful lady like you,” he brings himself to say, his hand waving in the air as if the answer will appear in front of her. “Forgive me, but the idea that no one has given themself to you is a shame.”

She stares at him, astounded. She slowly sits up to try and meet his shifting eyes. He relents and finally looks back at her.

Up close he can see a singular flaw on her face. It looks like a scar. But it’s too tiny and natural-looking; a mere dent in the skin. And he remembers she’s not perfect again. That she’s a Palpatine.

“You’ll do it then?” She asks tentatively before clarifying. “Make love to me, as my final wish?”

Kylo studies her hopeful, innocent eyes. He’s never looked at anyone he’s fucked before, much less remembered their face. He thinks he’ll remember hers and that he’ll be damned with the image of it until the day he dies.

He’s had his fair share of women – seeing the task of pleasuring and being pleasured as something carnal, a basic human need to be met. It helped to placate his mind if only a little from the tiring affairs of hunting and killing.

To think that Rey, in the middle of nowhere, hasn’t had this basic need met fires something up within him. Hearing her asking him to ‘make love’ to her has an odd, but ironically familiar, ring to his ear.

“As you wish, Rey.” How can he refuse her, if he could benefit from it too? A quick fuck to send him back home, a dying wish to feel love in its physical form for her. However love is interpreted.

He moves to her, eager to settle the deed and satiate the growing lust. But her hand on his chest halts him. Her eyes are wary and concern for her takes over his mind.

“What is your name, warrior?”

“Kylo. Kylo Ren.”

She didn’t need a full name but somehow he gives it. And she’s not as isolated as he thinks because recognition flickers on her face at the sound of it.

“From the infamous Knights of Ren,” she whispers. She frowns then. “That’s your title. Not your real name.”

“How do you know so much?”

“Travellers from the rural side have passed by for shelter before. They boast so much about their fearsome warriors bringing glory to their kingdom.” She pauses then asks again, “You would grant me this wish as a _human_ _being_. Not as a murderer. Won’t you?”

He takes a moment to think about it, eyes not tearing away from hers. She thinks he will say no. And maybe she will have to rescind her dying wish if he refuses.

For her own dignity.

“It’s Ben.”

And he dives into her, pressing his lips to hers and tasting the surprising sweetness that comes with it. Her delicate hands come up to weave through his hair, and he presses harder against her lips, tracing the seam of them until she opens up for him. A sweet sigh escapes her when she feels his tongue.

With a hand bracketing her neck, he lays her back down on the soft grass carefully, refusing to break contact for even just a second.

His free hand caresses her bent leg, pushing the hem of her skirt up her thigh. He takes liberty in squeezing her thin frame: from her hips to the soft breast underneath the flimsy dress she has on. It leaves no room for imagination and he is glad for it. A pert nipple meets his thumb beneath the fabric and he circles it as he moves his lips to trace the underside of her jaw, down her neck.

He is pushing her collar off her shoulder and planting wet kisses along her collarbone when she brushes his hair and rasps his name.

“If you have to kill me,” she manages to say amidst the distracting pleasure. “You’ll know when to do it?”

He looks up at her. “A painless death, milady.” He’ll twist her neck when she peaks. When they both peak. Or when she’s the least suspecting of it. He doesn’t know actually. He can’t fixate on when he’ll do it while he’s feasting on her body. But he tells himself he’ll know when the right time comes.

She tugs his face back up to hers, kissing him fiercely, almost desperately. A clinginess he’s never felt before radiating off her. He can’t bring himself to break the kiss to tell her that they can take their time to enjoy this. As an alternative, he traces his hand down her body to cup her mound, another quiet gasp escaping her lips at the new feeling of being touched down there.

She breaks her lips away from his, letting herself get lost in his ministrations.

What thick fingers he has. The very same ones that will take the last of her breath later that day. She suppresses the thought as soon as she thinks it, choosing to cherish this ecstasy he’s giving to her.

There’s nothing she can do with the moans that escape her lips. She calls for him – but what for? He responds with attentive kisses as if that was the answer she sought. When his fingers move so delicately and yet so obscenely between her folds, she feels like an instrument being played. It should shame her, to think of herself as an object. But what enjoyment it is to be so expertly touched, an unknown territory finally being unlocked as he rubs with purpose against her bud. The warrior – _no_ , Ben – seems to know the effect he has on her.

He’s doing good on his promise.

She’s tugging on his armour now. And he wastes no time to remove it, except for the flimsy trousers that were once protected under his armour and boots.

His chest seems to enchant her. Has she met no shirtless man before? Her hand comes up to explore the expanse of it, before dragging her pink lips across the skin in reverence. He lets her explore him.

But he’s selfish by nature: he doesn’t give her all the time before he cups her jaw and cranes her face to kiss her again. He is enjoying this. He’s never been the fondest of kissing, preferring to get straight down to the fucking. But something about Rey is making him think otherwise. Her innocence and eagerness can be found elsewhere, but there is something within her that is compelling him to please. For her sake, not his.

He helps her in turn out of her dress. When she lies bare and utterly nude before him, he cannot help take a moment to take it all in. Her flawless skin, ready to be marked by him, eager to be ravaged by him. How can one be cursed with a blessing at the same time?

When he looks back up at her, she has an expectant look in her eyes. She does well in suppressing her fear of the inevitable.

“You’re very beautiful,” he tells her.

“And so are you.” She smiles and it only confirms what he said.

He cannot help but laugh. She laughs softly back as she brings her arms behind to rest under her head. Her breasts on full display for him alone.

“It’s true,” she speaks seriously now, “No murderer should be as handsome as you are.”

The reminder sobers him a little and he distracts himself by tracing his hand across her stomach, grateful for the liberty.

“Were I not handsome you wouldn’t let this be happening now.”

Rey thinks about it. “It’s a bonus, yes. But I think your handsomeness comes more from the mercy you grant me.”

 _Mercy_ , he thinks, what a laughable concept right now.

His travelling hand moves down to her mound once more. She’s obscenely wet with want from his earlier ministrations and it schools his amused face into serious devotion. She’s singing his name in sweet sighs in no time again as he strokes her with greater purpose. His finger penetrates her and her hand comes down to grab his wrist.

“What is it?” he asks her.

She looks bashful for a moment. “I wasn’t – I’m new to this feeling that’s all.”

“Do you like it?”

She hesitates before a small grin spreads on her face, releasing her hold of his wrist. “Yes, I really do.”

And he sets himself to give her what she wants. His eyes lock on hers as he pushes into her, feeling her and priming her. He adds another finger when she’s ready and her eyes roll back in pleasure.

“ _Ben_.”

He moves to capture her lips, silencing her whimper when his fingers work a bit harder in her. He drags his lips down to capture her breast, his tongue playing with her attentive nipple before releasing it with a wet pop to do the same to the next breast.

“You’re very good,” he hears her sigh out. And it encourages him to give her more than she’s expecting.

His lips trace down her stomach until he’s greeted with her inviting cunt. This intrigues her. “Ben, what - ?” But he shushes her, trailing wet kisses along her inner thigh until his breath is teasing at her core. She’s flushed pink and wet with want. A true sight to behold, a memory he’ll live on for the rest of his day, he suspects.

He replaces his fingers with his tongue, kissing her folds like it was her mouth, relishing her sweetness before focusing his sole attention on her throbbing bud.

Her back arches at this new sensation, gasping out his name loud enough to spook any wild animals nearby. When her thighs start to clamp around his head, he gently pries his hand from hers to push her thigh away until she’s spread eagle for him and trembling again, asking to be devoured.

She feels pleasure shoot through her spine when he dives in again. She thinks she can die happy like this – his impressive nose pushing in against her. How vulgar this all was. And she is loving it. That is, until Ben removes his lips from her and she cannot help but whimper a little in disappointment.

Maybe this is it.

Maybe he’s going to finally end her like this – a pitiful naked body, half-ravaged in the middle of nowhere.

But then she feels Ben capture her chin to kiss her hard again. He is breathing intensely now. And she doesn’t realise that he has pushed his trousers off until something hard and hot is pressing against her thigh.

_Fuck, he’s huge._

“Are you going to kill me with that?” She blurts out, half-panicked at the sheer size of him. He laughs against her cheek, his big arms caging her in. She cannot help but bring her hands up to feel the thick cord of muscles from his back to his arms.

He is very impressively built.

When she laughs in turn, panic dissipating, he has the urge to assure her he wouldn’t hurt her. But that in itself wasn’t true and it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. He tries to forget about it as he captures her lips once more, bringing a hand down to line himself up between her lips.

Rey gasps when he first pushes in slowly. It’s not going to fit, she thinks. But Ben is patient with her as he coos at her face, comforting her and relaxing her with affectionate kisses.

He inches in further and she soon seems to accommodate better, though her breathing remains heavy. It helps to hold on tight to him, she realizes.

He tests a few short thrusts and watches Rey’s face carefully, attuning himself to her reaction.

“More,” she manages to say and he pushes in further without hesitation, resulting in another whimper of pleasure from her.

They kiss passionately as his thrusts get deeper. Her heavy breathing soon turns into rhythmic sighs when he’s hilt-deep in her at last. He takes it slow for her, dragging the pleasure out. When her lips break from his to graze his jaw, she wraps her arm tighter around him, legs pushing down his buttocks and he would be dumb not to recognize it as a signal.

He thrusts harder into her. Her sighs soon turn into moans. She’s so tight and she’s taking him so well. Nothing will ever feel this good to him. He’d tell her but she’s rendered him inarticulate as he focuses on nothing but pounding into her, exerting every ounce of his energy into deflowering her.

The slapping of skin is loud and echoing across the nature compound. He’ll never forget this. Not ever for as long as he lives. She feels him flutter around him and he hisses.

“ _Fuck_ , Rey – come for me.”

He pushes up a little, to re-angle her leg a bit and his thrusts hit a little deeper than what they thought could. He licks his finger and brings it down to work on her, causing her to squirm under his touch until she’s calling out for him again.

Her sweet cunt tightens around him and before he knows it, she’s coming and arching her back. A new drive takes over him as he cages her sweet face with his arm once more, redirecting all his focus on pounding erratically into her, chasing his own high.

A final thrust and he fills her with him, groaning hard against her neck, dizzy with pleasure, before laying his weight on her. She trails kisses on his shoulder, relishing this foreign feeling of being filled with something warm in her.

They breathe heavy for a long while, her arms still lovingly wrapped around him. He does not want to open his eyes and face the reality of what he came here for.

But when he feels Rey tense beneath him, he prepares himself to pull back from her and face the music.

“Thank you,” she whispers, fingers brushing the hair off his face as he looks down at her in awe.

When he cups her face, she closes her eyes, accepting her fate. He’s kind enough to kiss her one last time, she thinks. It’s soft and painfully sweet. Tears threaten to spill from her eyes again as she awaits her doom.

“Come with me.”

Rey opens her eyes. “What?”

This time, Ben brushes the hair off her face and caresses her cheek. How can he bring himself to kill her? She's done nothing wrong – merely unfortunate enough to be born to a wicked lineage. 

“The kingdom doesn’t have to know.”

She’s crying now, overwhelmed by his proposition. “Ben, you don’t even know me.”

It’s true. They know nothing of each other. And yet they were both foolish enough to lay naked with one another in their full physical vulnerability.

“Would you rather I walk away from you right now forever?” 

He knows returning to the kingdom without evidence of her destruction was a death trap. There’s no getting around this now. Either she leaves with him or he finds refuge in another kingdom. Someone else is bound to be sent to kill her if he doesn’t return with news. The thought unsettles him and suddenly he’s holding onto her a little more desperately.

“I’ve only pledged allegiance to a faceless crown all my life. Let me have this, please.” He rethinks his words. “Give _yourself_ this, please.”

“But like you said, I’m a Palpatine.”

Realisation dawns unto him that he has in fact deflowered her, potentially breeding her with his own seed and leaving the future with a new line of the cursed family that his kingdom sought to extinguish.

“Let the past die,” he says.

He thinks of where they’ll go, how he’ll take care of her. And how they’ll start a family of their own, in their own land, free of the shackles of disputing noblemen that once dictated the fate of their lives. “We’ll start anew on our own. You’ll take a name of your own choosing, and nobody will find us.”

“Can it be so?” she asks. She’s scared to hope but with the fervor he speaks with, she feels anything they desire is within their reach.

“Yes. It very much can,” he promises her.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please leave a mark in the form of kudos and/or comments. Both would be very uplifting :) 
> 
> I may not be thinking of extensions to this story, just because I've accidentally built two characters with compelling circumstances and what fun is there to explore that maybe?
> 
> Follow me on @reylomami at Twitter! 
> 
> Stay Safe and healthy everyone!
> 
> x
> 
> P.S. I wanna read different takes on this prompt. Please refer me to any/tag me should there be another take!


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